of the Howards.
It filled him with gloomy hatred to think that the Duke of Norfolk, when
he rode through the streets of London, was everywhere received with
the acclamations and rejoicing of the people, while he, the king, was a
prisoner in his palace. It was a gnawing pain for him to know that Henry
Howard, Earl of Surrey, was praised as the handsomest and greatest man
of England; that he was called the noblest poet; the greatest scholar;
while yet he, the king, had also composed his poems and written his
learned treatises, aye, even a particular devout book, which he had
printed for his people, and ordered them to read instead of the Bible.
[Footnote: Burnet, vol. i, p. 95.]

It was the Howards who everywhere disputed his fame. The Howards
supplanted him in the favor of his people, and usurped the love and
admiration which were due to the king alone, and which should be
directed toward no one but him. He lay on his bed of pain, and without
doubt the people would have forgotten him, if he had not by the block,
the stake, and the scaffold, daily reminded them of himself. He lay on
his bed of pain, while the duke, splendid and magnificent, exhibited
himself to the people and transported them with enthusiasm by the
lavish and kingly generosity with which he scattered his money among the
populace.

Yes, the Duke of Norfolk was the king's dangerous rival. The crown was
not secure upon his head so long as the Howards lived. And who could
conjecture whether in time to come, when Henry closed his eyes, the
exultant love of the people might not call to the throne the Duke of
Norfolk, or his noble son, the Earl of Surrey, instead of the rightful
heir--instead of the little boy Edward, Henry's only son?

When the king thought of that, he had a feeling as though a stream of
fire were whirling up to his brain; and he convulsively clenched his
hands, and screamed and roared that he would take vengeance--vengeance
on those hated Howards, who wanted to snatch the crown from his son.

Edward, the little boy of tender age--he alone was the divinely
consecrated, legitimate heir to the king's crown. It had cost his father
so great a sacrifice to give his people this son and successor! In order
to do it, he had sacrificed Jane Seymour, his own beloved wife; he had
let the mother be put to death, in order to preserve the son, the heir
of his crown.

And the people did not once thank the king for this sacrifice that Jane
Seymour's husb